


Body and Soul

by gallifreyslostson



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Baby!Fic, F/M, pregnancy!fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 05:56:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4251960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gallifreyslostson/pseuds/gallifreyslostson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When fate seems to play a cruel joke on Jonathan Miller, he tries to move past it, only to have the girl he’d missed out on show up again in an unexpected way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Body and Soul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aeonish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeonish/gifts).



> Title from the song of the same name, by Coleman Hawkins.

“Oh, listen, and don’t forget about Auntie Pat’s birthday next week.”

“Lucie, I never forget Auntie Pat’s birthday,” Jonathan told his sister, rolling his eyes a little before checking for traffic.

“Yeah, well, you still manage to miss it nearly every year,” Lucie retorted as he crossed the street.

“I can’t help that!  You know I can’t actually control _when_ babies are born.”

“Your emergencies still seem a bit convenient to me,” she huffed in reply.

She continued to prattle on, but Jonathan suddenly found himself incredibly distracted by the view down the street.  It was a girl, just a girl...but something about her caught his eye, and kept it.  Blonde, probably average height without the heels, wearing a smart skirt and jacket with a red blouse...and strikingly beautiful.  She glanced his way as she hailed a cab, her movements hurried, impatient, and he slowed to a stop as a cab pulled over to pick her up.  She got into the car, and it pulled away, and just like that she was gone.

“Oi!  Are you even listening to me?”

Jonathan shook himself, pushing the odd incident from his mind.  There was no reason he should suddenly be distracted by some woman in the street, no matter how gorgeous.

“Of course, Lucie,” he lied.

“Yeah, right.  What’d I just say then?”

“That...you’ll hunt me down if I try to beg off from Auntie Pat’s dinner again?”

Lucie was quiet a second, then snorted.  “Lucky guess.”

“Listen, Luc, I’m at the clinic, I’ve got to go,” he said as he approached the door to his practice.  “I’ll be there for the dinner, I promise.”

“Yeah, alright,” his sister sighed.  “Tell Molly I said hello, and tell Chris--”

“That he’s still a tosser?” Jonathan guessed with a grin as the man himself opened the door and snorted at the comment.

“Yeah, that’ll work.”

“Always lovely to hear from you, Lucie,” Chris said, loudly enough for Lucie to hear.  “But your brother’s got an actual job to do now.”

“What a nob,” Lucie said with a derisive sniff.  “Alright, fine, go, bring new people into the world.  Love you.”

“Love you too.”  He pressed the end button and raised an eyebrow at Chris.  “Remind me why you two always feel it necessary to harass each other?”

“Because we’re secretly in love,” Chris said with a shrug, following Jonathan to the office.  “Word of warning, Molly’s on the warpath.”

“Oh, god, what now?”

“I made a pregnant lady cry.”

“ _What_?”

“It was an accident!  Mrs. Lee is a week past her due date, and uncomfortable as hell, and when I told her she was only at two centimeters, she lost it.”

Jonathan sighed, dropping his bag on his chair and shrugging out of his leather jacket.  “When are we inducing?”

“Monday,” Chris replied.  “I figured we’d give the squirt a last weekend to make a run for freedom on his own.”

"Right."

Jonathan shrugged into his lab coat and took a deep breath before their nurse stormed into the office to unleash the full extent of her Irish fury on them.  Molly was an amazing nurse--all their patients loved her, and without her administrative talents, they'd probably have shot themselves in the foot years back--but when she also had a habit of hopelessly mothering them, despite being several years younger than most of them.  This came complete with care, lectures, and the unwavering opinion that they spent all their time off drinking and chasing skirts.

Apart from the time it took to soothe his ruffled nurse's feathers, the morning was fairly easy for Jonathan.  A couple of routine exams and a wellness check, as well as the paperwork that had been neglected for most of the week and he promised Molly he'd finish by lunch.  It was when he went out for a bite with his partner that he saw her again.

It didn't even make sense; they'd gone to an entirely different part of town.  They were both without appointments for a couple of hours, so he and Chris decided to take advantage of the longer break to head to their favorite Thai place.  Lunch itself was uneventful, but then as they left, she hurried past them, and Jonathan did a double take before halting dead in the center of the busy pavement.

"Everything alright?" Chris asked, returning to Jonathan's side when he realized his friend was no longer with him.

"It's her," Jonathan replied, craning his neck to keep sight of her through the throng of pedestrians.

"Who?"

"The girl."  Jonathan glanced up at Chris' baffled expression and huffed.  "It's this girl, I saw her this morning, not far from the clinic."

"Is there something...special about her?" Chris asked carefully.

"I've no idea," Jonathan said with a shrug, looking back toward the direction she'd hurried off in.  "I haven't spoken to her.  She was getting in a cab, you see."

"Right.  You know, I didn't really take you as the stalker type," Chris mused as Jonathan finally turned away.

"I haven't stalked anyone," he scoffed.  "She just...happened to be there, and I noticed.  That's all."

"Of course," Chris said soothingly.  "Tell me, did anyone _else_ see your mystery girl?"

"Oh, just forget I mentioned it."

"Tetchy."

"Go make another expectant mother cry."

He managed to put the girl out of his mind again, not the least because he was starting to doubt his own sanity.  It was just some woman he'd seen a couple of times, and while he was certain she probably existed outside his own imagination, there really wasn't any call to be so distracted by her.

He found reasonable success with this rationale, forgetting about her completely as he worked through his afternoon appointments.  Lucie called late in the day asking if he was free for a drink at the local, sighing dramatically when he asked if Chris could come along.  It was fun, with Lucie and Chris sniping at each other from either side of Jonathan, but without a lot of real sting.  They weren’t staying late, not with Mrs Lee so touch and go, and were actually on their way out the door when Jonathan caught sight of her again.

“Oh, you’ve got to be joking,” he murmured, coming to a stop.

“What, what’s wrong?” Lucie asked, squinting in the direction of his gaze.

“It’s her,” he said, his tone stunned as he watched her order a drink, casual as you please.

“Who?”

“Oh, so you’re lady friend is real,” Chris commented, resting an arm on Jonathan’s shoulder.  “Glad to see you haven’t gone completely ‘round the bend.”

“What lady friend?” Lucie demanded.  “You never told me about a lady friend.”

“Probably because she doesn’t know she’s his lady friend,” Chris suggested, and Jonathan clicked his tongue irritably and stepped away from him.  “Oh, alright, no need to get all moody.  She’s just this girl he’s seen around a couple of times today.”

“Which one is she, then?” Lucie asked.

“Red blouse,” Jonathan said, still watching her.  He glanced at his two comrades studying her to either side of him and huffed out a breath.  “Look, Chris, can you make sure Lucie gets home alright?”

“Right, that’s us being told to politely shunt off,” Lucie said, raising an eyebrow at Jonathan as Chris sighed.

“I expect you’re right,” he agreed sadly.  “Pity, bad pickups are so much more entertaining when it’s happening to someone else.”

“Yes, well, I’m sorry to rob you of your entertainment for the evening,” Jonathan said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, and Chris smirked.

“Come on, you,” Lucie said, winding her arm through Chris’.  “You can be my bodyguard to the carpark.”

“Exactly how is that supposed to work?” Jonathan heard him ask as they moved toward the door.  “Since I’m fairly certain you could kick my ass any day of the week.”

“Alright, I’ll be your bodyguard.  Wouldn’t want anyone to scratch that pretty face, seeing as it’s your only asset.”

“Why, Lucie Miller, I do believe that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Jonathan glanced back to make sure they were actually gone before making his way over to the bar and cutting someone off with a muttered apology for the space next to the girl.  He lost the plot a bit once there, uncertain what he was actually going to say, and ended up ordering a bourbon simply for something to do with his hands.  Despite what Molly might believe, it had been some time since Jonathan had actually tried to pick up a girl.  He wasn't even completely certain he was trying to pick up _this_ girl, but the fact fate kept throwing her in his path meant he had to at least _talk_ to her, surely.

Or, at least, he _could_...if she wasn’t already talking to someone on her phone.

“No, they said they’d call in the morning,” she was saying, her free hand pressed to her other ear to block out the pervasive bar noises.  “I don’t _know_ , Mum.  Yeah, okay.  _Yes_.  I’ll talk to you then.”

He didn't realize he was staring until she glanced at him as she hung up, giving him a tight smile.

"Mums," she said, rolling her eyes.

"I wouldn't know," he replied without thinking, and she gave him an odd look.  "Mine's dead, you see."

"Right," she said, still wearing a peculiar expression, and he mentally kicked himself.  "I'm...sorry for your loss."

"Don't be, it was twenty years ago," he informed her, then took a large drink of his bourbon while internally shouting at himself to _stop talking._   "Which..still probably isn’t something you want to hear about from a stranger in a bar, I’d imagine.”

“It’s definitely not the usual,” she replied slowly, already sliding off her stool.

“I’m fairly certain I’m usually smoother than this,” he blurted, and she paused--likely more out shock than anything.

“Are you?”

“Mm, reasonably sure,” he said, nodding and taking another drink.  “Thing is, I saw you earlier.  Twice, actually.”

“I don’t think so,” she said, shaking her head a little.

“I do,” he said, nodding resolutely.  “When you were getting into a cab this morning, and then again when you passed me on the pavement around lunchtime.  And I’m aware that probably makes me sound like a complete loon, trust me, but I’m sure you’re just as aware that you’re...gorgeous, or you should be.  Aware, that is.  Thing is, I forgot, both times.  Put it out of my head completely, because why on earth should I be so distracted by one stranger in a city of strangers?”

“I have no idea,” she said, her eyes wide.

“Well, exactly, I don’t either,” he went on.  “But then I saw you again here, tonight, and you weren’t hurrying off, so in some misguided fit of existential belief in some sort of cosmic order to things, I ditched my sister and my best friend to come talk to you, but all that seemed to come out was information about my dead mother which is of no use to either of us and frankly a bit morbid in terms of pickup lines.  So you see I’m usually much smoother, but something about you has me completely turned around to the extent that I’ve just realized that I haven’t even asked your name.  Do you see my problem?”

She stared at him for a second, but he was relieved to note that she seemed to be fighting a smile now.  “Rose.”

“Rose,” he repeated.  “That’s absolutely lovely.  I’m Jon, and I promise, not nearly the lunatic I appear to be.”

“I feel very sorry for your sister,” she remarked, and he raised an eyebrow in question.  “Well, dead mother, crazy brother…”

“Ah...yes, she is rather unfortunate,” he agreed.  “Dead father, too, if we’re getting down to it.  Although we do have an aunt who’s...fairly normal.  At least relatively.”

“Good to know,” she said, losing the fight against her smile, and he watched in fascination as her tongue poked out a little from her teeth.

“Let me buy you a drink,” he urged.  “I promise to skirt all depressing topics and make an effort to resurrect the charming, charismatic part of me that I’ve been accused on multiple occasions of taking advantage of in tight situations.”

“I...really shouldn’t,” she said, shaking her head a little.

“But you’re going to.  Aren’t you?”

Rose eyed him for a moment, then slid back onto her stool.  "Alright, one drink.  But any further indication that you're completely barmy, and I walk."

"Deal," he said with a grin signaling to the bartender fit another of the same for her.

"So, what other less depressing topics did you have in mind?” she asked, watching the bartender fill a glass and bring it over to her.

“I haven’t the foggiest,” he said with a grin.  “But I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

He did, as it turned out.  He thought of several topics, as did she, until one drink turned into...several more than was probably wise, and they were nestled in a booth at the back of the pub, with his arm resting lazily over the back behind her and their bodies situated far closer than they probably should be for two people that just met.  It wasn’t until Jonathan glanced up and saw how much the crowd had thinned that he looked at his watch and winced.  Rose caught the expression and lifted his wrist to look at the time, groaning when she saw the late hour.

“I really should get to bed,” she said, sounding regretful enough to give him hope.

“Let me give you a lift home.”

“I don’t live far enough for that,” she said, smiling a little and shaking her head.

“Then let me walk you, at least,” he urged.  “It’ll be safer, and I’ll have managed a few more minutes before saying goodnight.”

“You weren’t kidding were you?” she asked, and he furrowed his brows.  “That you can be a charmer.”

“Oh, Rose,” he breathed, sliding out of the booth and holding out a hand for her to draw her up to his chest.  “I would never joke about a thing like that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, her tongue-touched grin making another appearance and making his heart skip a beat or six.

Their hands melded together as they left the bar, almost magnetically pulled toward the other, and Jonathan had a brief thought about how well her fingers laced with his and how well their hands fit before they started chatting again, calling back the discussion of favorite music styles that had started before the time had rudely interrupted them.  He was acutely disappointed when she tugged him to a stop a mere few doors away, and he glanced up at the building of flats unhappily.

“This is me,” she said redundantly.  “Although I suppose I shouldn’t even tell you that much, seeing as you’ve been stalking me all day.”

His eyebrows jumped as one corner of his mouth turned up a little.  “I would argue, Rose, that as you managed to turn up at all _my_ usual haunts, without any effort on my part to seek you out, that I’m far more likely to be the stalkee.”

“Of course you would,” she teased, stepping closer, and a heady feeling of expectancy and potential energy made Jonathan’s head swim and stomach tighten.

“I have to say,” he murmured, glancing down at her lips as they parted ever so slightly, “I don’t really mind.”

“Maybe next time I’ll do it intentionally,” she said, her voice equally soft as he lifted his eyes back to hers.

“Next time?”

She didn’t answer, but he saw her own gaze drop briefly.  He leaned in slowly, keeping hold of her hand as he kissed her, a gentle brush of his lips over hers.  His free hand moved to her waist when she applied her own pressure, and he felt her touch sweep over his bicep and shoulder before settling on the back of his neck.  He tilted his head a little for a better angle, and although the kiss remained fairly chaste, he did manage to capture her top lip between his fleetingly before pulling away.

“I’m really glad you decided to say hello,” she whispered, still intoxicatingly close.

“Me too,” he replied fervently.

Her eyes roamed over his face for a moment, one of her hands still in his while the other clung to his neck.  “Do you...wanna come upstairs for a bit?”

Jonathan took a breath, glancing up at the building again to cover the way he could feel the blood pulsing in his ears.  “I thought you needed to get to bed.”

“Who says I won’t?”

Jonathan arched an eyebrow in surprise, and she bit her lip uncertainly.  This proved entirely too much for him, and he let go of her hand to slip his other arm around her as he lowered his head again, kissing her with far less restraint.  Her now free hand was soon buried in his hair, and he groaned against her mouth as the kiss deepened and his tongue slid against hers.

“We should get upstairs very, very soon,” he said when he finally raised his head again, his voice hoarse.

“Because it’s so late?” she asked, a ghost of a smile hovering at the corners of her lips.

“Exactly.”

She licked her lips and nodded a little before turning away to rummage in her purse for her keys.  He followed as she stepped toward the door, his hands finding her hips as he lowered his head to press his lips to her neck.  She moved her head a little to the side to give him better access, a breathy moan escaping her lips.

“That’s...making it very difficult to unlock the door,” she informed him, fighting to get her key in the lock.

“Try harder,” he suggested, lips still moving against her skin, and he felt a shiver run through her.

She stumbled a little when she finally won her personal war with the lock, and he wrapped an arm around her to keep her upright.  The fact that it brought her back flush to his chest and her hips against certain hardening parts of his anatomy was just a bonus, albeit a very substantial one.

“Which floor?” he asked without relinquishing his hold on her.

“Th-third,” she stammered, and he smirked.

“That’s...a lot of stairs,” he commented, not entirely sure at this point that they’d actually make it out of the stairwell with all their clothes.

“There’s a lift,” she informed him, turning her head and leaning to the side to look at him.

“I like lifts.”  He stepped back, and gestured for her to precede him.  “Lead on.”

She reached back as she stepped away, hooking a couple of fingers with his as she led him to the lift.  There was a tense moment as they waited silently for the car to descend, in which images of what he’d like to do to her warred with his complete shock that this was happening at all.  This morning she’d just been some woman on the street, and now--

The bell for the lift dinged before he could finish the thought, and Rose tugged him into the lift before hitting the button for the third floor.  He spun her around, his lips descending on hers before the doors were even closed.  She responded without hesitation, her hands plunging into his hair even as her tongue plunged into his mouth, and he groaned as his hands slid down over the curve of her bum to pull her hips against his, providing just enough friction to drive him crazy with want.

When the lift bell dinged again, he reached out blindly for the doors to keep them open.  They spun together before she pressed him back against the doors, continuing her own assault for a moment before pulling away breathlessly.  He looked down at her with hooded eyes, taking in her flushed cheeks and heaving chest, and she swallowed hard.

“Th--this way,” she managed before huffing out a breath and fanning herself as she turned away.  A corner of his mouth tipped up as he followed her down the hall, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket as she unlocked the door--if he messed with her again, he very well might end up fucking her against the wall, which, while enticing, was probably not the best idea.  She pivoted toward him again when she got the door unlocked, her hand resting lightly on the doorknob.  “Um...thing is...I’m moving.  So...my flat’s mostly just...a bed, boxes, and booze at the moment.”

“I’m alright with that,” he told her, shrugging a little, then narrowed his eyes.  “Although, I do hope you’re not moving far.”

"No," she replied, grinning and shaking her head.  "Staying in the city."

"Glad to hear it," he said, stepping toward her and putting a hand over hers on the knob to turn it as he leaned in to kiss her again.  The tension ratcheted up as he pushed her inside and kicked the door closed behind him.  He reached back to engage the lock before raising his head and muttering, "Bugger to the boxes and booze, where's the bed?"

They fought with each other’s clothes, leaving them in a trail behind them as she led him to the bedroom in the back of the flat.  Jonathan had her down to her knickers when they reached the bedroom, although she’d been more adept, apparently, and he was completely starkers as they rounded the bed.  She pushed him down, and he reached for her, his mouth finding one of her breasts as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her knickers and pulled them down her shapely thighs.  Her hands went to his hair again as he lavished attention to her other breast, and she moaned his name as his fingers moved through her slick folds to find her clit.  She only allowed it for a moment, though, before pulling his hand away to climb up and straddle him, tugging on his hair to pull his head back and kiss him as she sank down on his cock. 

He groaned, breaking the kiss to find her neck, and he tried to sort out some semblance of control as she started to ride him slowly.  His hands danced over back, clutching her here and there as he nipped at the join of her neck and shoulder, and she made a keening sound that drove him nearly insane.  With a curse, he grabbed her leg and flipped them, pushing her further onto the bed before thrusting into her again.  Her knees came up to hook around his hips, and another curse fell from his lips when he felt her nails scraping down his back.  He snaked a hand between them, his fingers moving roughly over clit as he pounded into her.

“Rose, are you--”

“Close,” she panted, even as he felt her muscles start to flutter around him.  He shifted, tilting her hips up to reach deeper into her as his control fractured and his thrusting hips lost any sort of rhythm.  It was enough, though, and she cried out as she shattered around him, her nails digging into his shoulders.  He groaned out her name, burying his face in her neck as he broke and his vision went white.

He stayed like that for a moment, rocking against her, before he raised his head to kiss her tenderly.  He groaned when he finally rolled off of her, and she stayed to catch her breath a moment before standing and heading out of the room, probably for the loo.  He laid on her bed bonelessly for a minute or two before dragging himself up and glancing around to find his pants.  He’d just managed to pull them up to his waist when Rose returned wearing a silky robe and an uncertain expression.

“So um...what happens now?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest, and he tilted his head in confusion.  “It’s just...I don’t...usually do this.”

“Invite up the lads from the local, you mean?” he asked, smirking at her, and she rolled her eyes.  “I don’t either.  But I don’t think there’s any hard and fast rules about it.  Do you want me to go?”

“No,” she said hesitantly, and he shrugged.

“Then I won’t.  Instead,” he went on, reaching for her and pulling her back toward the bed, “I think you should come back to bed, and we should...get to know each other some more...and in the morning, I’ll make you breakfast.”

“I haven’t got any food for breakfast,” she said as she let him pull her down to the bed.

“Then I’ll take you out,” he said, undeterred as he peppered kisses over her neck and pressed her down onto the mattress.  “The point is, breakfast will occur...in the morning.”

oOoOo

Jonathan woke with a start when he heard his phone going off, wincing at the sleepy sound Rose made at the disturbance.  He eased himself out of bed and padded around the room before locating his trousers and fishing his phone out.

“Yeah.”

“Pleasure to talk to you too,” Chris’ voice said around a yawn.  “Mrs. Lee went into labor.”

“And?” he asked, glancing back at Rose.  “She’s your patient.”

“Yes, she is,” Chris agreed.  “But for one, she’s still angry at me, apparently, and for two, Ms. Merkowitz _also_ went into labor.”

“Fuck.”

“Yup.  So Molly told me to pass on the message that your services are required.”

“That’s pretty well-mannered for Molly.”

“Well, alright, what she actually said was that I was to haul you from whatever separate den of inequity you’d found yourself in and make sure we were both presentable to bring new lives into the world.”

“ _That_ sounds like Molly.”  He looked at the warm, inviting bed again regretfully, then sighed.  “Fine, I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“See you then.”

Jonathan clicked off and tiptoed around the flat in search of his clothes, leaving his shoes by the door.  After another minute or two, he located a piece of paper and pulled the pen out of his jacket to scribble Rose a quick note:

_Emergency came up, we’ll have to save breakfast for another time.  Call me._

_Jon_

_P.S. You’re beautiful when you’re sleeping._

He added his number to the bottom and left the note near her phone before sneaking out, hating that it felt like a walk of shame but refusing to wake her when she looked so peaceful.  He’d just have to take her out properly next time to make up for it.

Chris was already in his scrubs when Jonathan made it to the hospital, but other than raising his eyebrows, he didn’t comment on Jonathan’s rumpled appearance.  It wasn’t until both babies were successfully delivered and everyone was resting comfortably that Jonathan checked his phone and had a surge of disappointment when he saw a total lack of messages or missed calls.

“Problem?” Chris asked as they changed back into their street clothes.

“No.  I just...no.”

“Oh, hey, what ever happened with that girl last night?” his friend asked, tugging his shirt on.

“Nothing,” Jonathan said, shoving his phone back in his pocket irritably.  She was probably just busy.  He didn’t even know what she did for a living, she could be at work.  Plus she was moving...he could wait a day or two.

Except he heard nothing the rest of the day, or the next, or the one after that.  He started thinking he’d been crazy after all, some temporary insanity brought on the minute he first saw her, leading to him completely misreading the situation.  He could have sworn she’d been interested, that she’d possibly wanted to see him again...after a week, he finally gave up and went to her building, but got no answer from the buzzer.

“Ain’t nobody there,” a voice called from above.  Jonathan stepped back from the building to see a head poking out of the window from the unit next to Rose’s, some elderly man.  “So you can stop the racket if you please.”

“I’m sorry,” he shouted back.  “It’s just that I’m looking for my friend.”

“Bird who lived there moved out a few days back,” the man said.  “Not much of a friend if you don’t know that.  Here, you one of those weirdos from the news, following people home from the tube and making up some whole story for you in your head?”

“No, I assure you,” he said quickly, holding up his hands.  “Just...made a mistake, is all.”

“Some mistake.  Don’t let me catch you hanging ‘round here, or I’ll call the police, don’t think I won’t!”

The window slammed shut, and Jonathan dropped his hands to his sides again.  He looked back at the door, staring at it unhappily for a moment before shaking his head.  Clearly he’d gotten it all completely wrong.

“I can still see you!”

“Alright, I’m going!” he yelled, exasperated, turning on his heel and walking away.

Chris guessed what had happened when he got back to the office, and gave him a speech about there being more fish in the sea and how it wasn’t the end.  It irritated Jonathan, because he _knew_ all that--it had been one night, he didn’t even know her last _name_ , for christ’s sake--but that didn’t change the fact that he really had wanted to see her again, to get to know her in more senses than just biblically, and had been thoroughly rejected.

He moped for another week before his partner had had enough.

“It’s not that I’m against it, far be it from me to stop you from brooding on your own and singing The Great Pretender,” he told Jonathan.  “It’s there’s the patients, you see.  And your sister keeps calling ‘cause you missed your aunt’s birthday again--I know, Francine’s miscarriage scare, but I’m genuinely afraid to answer the phone anymore.  So I’m gonna need you to get a hold of yourself, alright?”

“Yeah, alright,” Jonathan said, shaking his head.  He just had to make peace with the fact that no matter how much he’d liked her, no matter how much the universe had seemed bent on throwing her in his path, he was never going to see her again.  So be it.

oOoOo

_One month later_.

“So when are you going to tell me about the girl you’ve been seeing?” Jonathan asked Chris between patients, a moment that had become increasingly rare.  They always got busier this time of year--why everyone insisted on having babies in the summer was beyond him.

“I keep telling you, there’s no girl,” Chris said, rolling his eyes.  “What makes you so sure there’s a girl?”

“You’ve been less acerbic lately in general,” Jonathan said with a shrug.  “You’ve even been nicer to Lucie.”

Chris gave him a glance with an odd expression, then shook his head.  “There’s no girl.  And you have a new patient.”

Jonathan looked back at his nod behind him to find Molly bustling up with a chart.  “Exam one.  I had to leave her with a bowl, poor dear, has morning sickness something awful.  You be nice to this one--she’s young and scared, and hasn’t got anyone with her.”

“I’ll handle her with nothing but the softest of kid gloves,” he assured her, taking the chart and glancing over it.  He narrowed his eyes at the name--Rose Tyler--but brushed it off.  Plenty of people were called Rose in London.

“And don’t let this one anywhere near her,” Molly added, pointing an accusatory finger at Chris.

“I made a woman cry _one time_ ,” Chris said, rolling his eyes as Jonathan grinned.  “When are you going to let me live that down?”

Jonathan left them bickering as he headed for the exam room.  He paused outside the door, wincing in sympathy at the sound of retching inside.  He waited until it stopped, then a beat longer to let her get her bearings again before pushing open the door.

“Miss Tyler,” he said to the blonde head still hunched over the bowl, stopping a few paces from her when she stiffened visibly.  “I’m Doctor Jonathan Miller.”

She lifted her head, and his mouth dropped open in shock.  Her cheeks were a bit more hollow, her glittering eyes red-rimmed, but it was definitely her.

“ _Rose_?”

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” she said, then promptly burst into tears.


End file.
